


Foster Child | Peter Parker

by petaella



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ant-Man (2015) Spoilers, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Civil War (Marvel), Complex Character, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Civil War (Marvel), Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, Spider-Man: Homecoming Spoilers, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29248239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petaella/pseuds/petaella
Summary: Genesis Isabella Foster-Isla for short-had always found her last name ironic seeming as she was in the foster care system ever since she was a little girl. It almost felt like she was destined to be in foster care.She had never known her dad, she didn't even know his or something as simple as what he looked. Her mom passed away when she was five years old.Ever since a tragic incident happened shortly after she moved in with her villainous uncle, she had been forced into foster care where she lived the rest of her days moving in and out of foster homes.Isla was deemed 'bad luck' and was jeered and mocked every where she went because of it. This led to her demanding to leave the state and find somewhere she would be more accepted.She basically travelled around the entirety of the United States of America before moving back to the big city at the age of thirteen.Her poor social worker was so confused, she failed to ask as to why Isla wanted move back so bad.Little did she know, Isla knew New York would be the start of the many adventures that the foster child would have to face.
Relationships: Peter Parker/OC
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

NEW YORK, New York.

What was there to hate about it? Buildings soared there and many people toured there. Squirrels ran around Central Park while rats ran through subway stations. Street performers performed in a mass pool of sweaty people as others rode in carriages around Central Park. The streets were busy, especially Times Square. But that particular morning, someone was busier than most.

Fourteen-year-old, Isla Foster, former New Yorker found herself moving back to the very first foster home she had been placed in. It felt weird, to say the least, looking at the townhouse instead of looking up at it. That she had physically grown so much since she had left this wondrous place she once called home all those years ago and here she stood, ready to call this place home all over.

She wondered if Pierre Benson who has picked his nose and ate it still lived there or if the Doyle twins still managed to cause havoc along with Wendy Leeson. She was glad that Justin the grumpy teenager was gone seeming as he was nearing his eighteenth birthday when she has whisked away from the home. Yusef and Gianna were probably gone too, most likely living together at the moment and starting a family, or not. She wasn't exactly sure since the two of them fell out with each other every other week. But most importantly, she wondered if her best friend and fellow roommate, Amaya Gomez had still lived there.

If she were, to be honest, she didn't think Amaya would even recognise her, let alone consider her a friend. The last time she had seen her, Amaya was just about to turn eight before they were ripped apart from each other by the wicked man Isla had ever had the misfortune of calling him, uncle.

She sighed as her social worker placed her hand on Isla's shoulder, smiling at her reassuringly. "Are you ready to go in? To start a new adventure?"

Isla didn't hesitate to return the gesture, holding onto her bag tighter as she continued to look towards the house. "Yeah...I think I am."

She made a run for it, her legs flying in the other direction.

Isla continued running, dodging the general public as she ignored the pleas from her social worker to come back.

Yes, Isla genuinely did want to see how her old friends at the foster home were doing after all these years but that seemed like more of a second-hand problem to her at the moment.

She had her reasons to come back to New York after all these years. One of them for revenge purpose for those who wronged her during the first eight years she had lived here for her life. She had listed in descending order of those she'd get revenge on, Flash Thompson being at the top ever since he poured super glue on the back of her head, permanently leaving a bald spot after Ms Coullete had ripped the wad out.

However, her primary reason for coming back to New York was to find her dad, who she figured out was currently in jail. Isla had never known her father, let alone even knew what did for a living. All she knew was that he currently resided in jail somewhere in California.

But knowing that little wasn't enough for her and she knew that if she begged her social worker to place her in California, a place she had loathed after spending six months there with some of the top socialites of LA. So, naturally, she thought of the next best place that would come in some way shape or form lead her to her father.

Her Uncle in New York.

Isla had barely remembered his face but he probably remembered hers. After all, she had only met him once when he was fifteen and he had still lived in his parents, her grandparent's house, on her seventh birthday.

After scouring the internet for a Vincent Foster, she found a man living in Queens who looked somewhat similar to her mother so she took her chances and came up with a five-step plan to meet her father.

So, as she huffed, pleased that she had finally outrun a random stranger her social worker made chase after her, she walked down the steps into the subway station, flattening out her clothes. She reached into her pocket, pulling out the metro card her social worker had given her during their car ride to New York as she made her way to the fare gates. She slid the card into the slot, silently cursing to herself when it declined. She looked around the mildly busy subway station, taking note of the saxophone player who was ever-so passionately playing Careless Whisper for a quaint audience who seemed to be enjoying his performance.

She notices the police officer who was sipping whatever from his Costa cup, closing his eyes as he joined the performance. Isla took him being distracted as an opportunity to not-so-discreetly hop over the fare gates in the subway.

The security guard had noticed her hop over in his peripheral vision and didn't hesitate to yell, "Hey! With the pink bag. Stop right there."

Isla froze for a split second, before bucking it for the second time that day. It was a bit more difficult to swerve around the public this time, seeming as they were in a more compacted space but she didn't mind as much, it was a free work out for her.

Their footsteps had been drowned out by the sound of the saxophone, playing a more lively and up-tone beat, perfectly matching the mini chase that was happening in the subway.

She had dove behind a pillar, circling it, moving carefully around it watching the guard who kept his eyes locked onto her as if she were prey.

Isla stopped for a moment, catching her breath. "C'mon man! Why are you taking your job so seriously right now? You're a subway security man for god's sake!" Isla exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.

The security man simply just narrowed his eyes at her and lunges forward, trying to grab onto anything on that would drag her to him. Isla swatted his hands away, pointing her finger at him warningly, "Watch your hands. I'm a minor!"

"I don't care what you are. All I know is that you're going to jail for illegally hopping the gate." The security guard said, moving forward to try and grab her again.

Isla screamed, waving her hands frantically in the air. "Help! He's trying to touch me! Somebody, please help."

The security guard had jumped back quickly, observing the wary eyes that were beginning to look in their direction. He awkwardly cleared his throat making sure to keep his distance from Isla.

Isla smirked to herself, pleased with her quick thinking abilities. She continued to run towards the train, knowing that the security guard reassuring everyone that was everything was alright would give her a good head start.

The security guard's fingers had barely skimmed Isla's bag as she jumped onto the train. The doors shutting immediately after she had gotten on. She laughed manically, sticking up the finger in pure bliss as she watched the security guard pound on the now moving door.

She let out a sigh, ruffling her hair a bit as she sat down on the lukewarm seat.

"Long day huh?"

"How can I have a long day if it hasn't even hit noon yet?" Isla asked, chuckling at the man's comment. She looked up, curious as to who she was talking to. Her eyes lingered over his face for a moment. "Do I know you? You look so familiar..."

"Ah! A question worth answering. some say I look like Owen Wilson, others say Paul Newman. Personally, I don't see either but you know, whatever floats their boat." The familiar man rambled, noticing by the lost look on Isla's gave that he'd gone on for a bit too long. "I'm Ben, Ben Parker."

Isla's fave had lit up as she recognised the man. He probably didn't know but Isla had always appreciated the man, the man certainly had a way with words as the advice he gave Isla after her mother had passed had always stuck with her after all these years.

"You probably don't remember me but I'm Isla, Isla Foster."

Ben let out an "Oh!" as he recognised the sassy little girl who was blossoming into a troublesome young lady. "I remember you from Pete's elementary school class right? You gave everyone a run for the money didn't you?"

Isla laughed. "I still do."

"Oh, I can tell." He looked at the girl, amazed. "What a small world we live in."

Isla smiled. "A small world indeed."

The train ride went by in what felt like seconds as Isla was whisked into a conversation with Ben Parker for the entirety of the ride. She had learned all about how he was a soldier that briefly fought in the Middle East before being discharged after a nasty back injury and how he and May were celebrating their twentieth anniversary that year. He slipped in some embarrassing stories about Peter here and there that made Isla laugh so loud people started to distance themselves from the two on the packed subway.

"Do you know where this is by any chance?" Isla handed Ben the piece of paper that she had messily written her uncle's stress on.

Ben adjusted his glasses, moving the piece of paper further away from him as he read. "Guess I'm not getting rid of you that easily," They both chuckled at his comment. He handed her the slip of paper back before sticking his hands in his pockets. "That apartment is directly right above mine. Secluded man that one is. Let's get going."

So, Isla hopped off the train, Ben following shortly after, the two of them walking side by side, the mix of heavy and dainty footsteps being the only sound between the two as they walked in silence. Nothing else needing to be spoken as they had already told each other everything on the train.

Ben had seen her off on the staircase reaching his floor, wishing her luck as she reunited with her uncle. Isla watched Ben walk into his apartment, smiling to herself before turned around and continued her hike up the stairs.

She had carefully made her towards her uncle's apartment, The numbers '24' glistening in the sun as she walked to the door. She took a deep breath, drawing her hand back getting ready to knock on the door. Her knuckles barely grazed the door before it was swung upon by a ragged looking man, who was long overdue a trim and looked rather musty if Isla were, to be frank.

"Who are you and what do you want from?" The man frantically asked, his eyes bouncing from each corner of her face, observing for any abnormalities.

"I'm Isla Foster and I desperately need your help."


	2. Messy Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isla meets her Uncle and begs for help in exchange for something.

ISLA FOSTER wasn't typically the kind of person to feel uncomfortable by another person. She was often the person to make people feel uncomfortable for her satisfaction. But, as she sat on her uncle's heavily stained sofa and watched him pace back and forth she couldn't help but shrivel in her seat at the lack of cleanliness of the apartment.

Vincent had come back from the kitchen with a tray of teacups. Isla smiled at him softly, instantly relaxing in her seat as the warm liquid went down her throat. Ahh, honey with a dash of cinnamon, she thought, just how I like it.

It was silent for a beat between the two of them. 

Vincent felt sceptical of Isla, not sure if the girl was who she said she was. He hadn't seen his sisters daughter since he was fifteen and even then that was the first and last time he'd seen her and it had only been for in or around eight minutes as he was a moody teenager at the time, who dreaded any sort of human interaction. However, he couldn't confirm nor deny that the young woman in front of her bore a resemblance to the sister her barely remembered.

Isla on the other hand was certain that this man was her uncle Vincent. She hadn't remembered his face, her brain suppressing any memory she had from between the ages of five to seven and a half. But from what she remembered of her mom, she and the man stood in front of her, Vincent, shared the same nose and they both had fluffy, voluminous hair. Not to mention the fact that she was always right in every given situation.

"I'm gonna ask a question...and you're going to answer it. Truthfully of course." Vincent said, crossing his arms. 

Isla nodded, taking another sip from her tea.

"What day did she die?"

Isla scoffed. "That's a weak security question."

"What!" Vincent exclaimed. "It's a good question."

"Yeah, a good question to easy infiltration." Isla rolled her eyes and answered, "November 3rd, just a few days after my sixth birthday." She reached into her bag and pulled out a rabbit plushie. "This was all they could find. She went to get it for me as a late birthday surprise."

Vincent's eyes softened as he looked between the doll and the girl sat in front of him. "Isabella..." He started softly, "It is you...I mean you look just like her."

"It's just Isla." She stated firmly, her hands tightening around the plushie.

"Right uhm," Vincent wooed his beard with his hands, "So...what brings you here?"

Isla chuckled to herself, confused as to why she was suddenly feeling anxious. She wasn't sure if it was because she was meeting family for the 'first time' or because she was asking for a rather large favour from him, either way, she didn't like feeling that way mx

She shakily put her cup back down onto the saucer, "I came here to ask you to do something for me. I wanted to ask you if—"

"Oh, Isla" Dylan cut her off, sighing, upset that he had to let her down. "If it's to come live with me than I'm afraid I'm gonna have to say no."

"What? No!" Isla exclaimed, all feelings of anxiety leaving her. "Why would I willingly want to move into this pigsty?"

"Pigsty? I'll have you know this is the cleanest my apartment has been in weeks!"

"We–Weeks? This is at least a–" Isla stopped herself, sighing as she realised they were going off topic. "Anyways, I was wondering if you'd fly to LA with me." She said, smiling as sweetly as possible in hopes it'd convince him.

Vincent smiled back, giggling slightly and clasped his hands together. "Now why the fuck would I willingly to do that?" He sprang you from his seat, taking the tray with him as he walked into the kitchen.

Isla walked (more like hopped with all the big pieces of trash on the floor) after him, following him into the kitchen with a big pout on her face. "Why not?! Do it for me please!"

"Why not?!" He yelled, turning around to look at the girl. "Why not she asks! Well let's see..." He put his all five of fingers up, "I have a job," He put his thumb down, "I have to renew my liscence at the DMV in like an hour," He put his pinky finger down, "I have a date with a hot chick in like, four hours after that," He put his ring finger down, "I really don't want to go to LA right now," he put his middle finger down, "and I barely even know you! Why would I do this for you!"

Isla looked at the man, shocked at his sudden outburst. "Okay those are some very valid reasons to bring me there."

"Very valid indeed." 

"But I need someone to accompany me to go and see my father."

"Your father?" Vincent said, intrigued at her sudden interest in her father. From what Vincent heard when he was younger his sister and his niece shared a common hatred for her father as he was absent and never bothered to contact the two after he had left. "Wasn't your mother's dying wish was that you never met him?"

Isla rolled her eyes and scoffed."No, her dying wish was that I never met Fred and Mary, your parents. Horrible people by the way."

"Oh right...them." Vincent frowned at the mention of his parents. "But why me? Couldn't you just ask your social worker to bring you there."

"I would if I could." Isla leaned in towards and whispered. "I had some pretty bad times there."

"Okay..." Vincent said. He wanted to know more what exactly 'pretty bad times' meant but he didn't want to press on it as he wasn't sure if it was a sensitive topic or not and they're relationship wasn't strong enough for him to even try and pry at it.

"Why do you even need to see your dad? Like what's the sudden curiosity? You seem like the independent type. Actually now that I'm thinking about it, why are you even in New York aren't you supposed to be in—"

"Arkansas?" Isla finished for him, nodding to nothing in particular as she reminisced the time she had in the boring state. "Let's just say certain events lead to a five step plan that lead me to you."

"Five step plan?" He queried, even more intrigued than before mx

"I'll tell you all about it," She reached into her back pocket and pulled out two plane tickets. "If you come to LA with me."

And naturally, curiosity got the better of Vincent Foster.


	3. Plenty O’Peanuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isla and Vincent are on the plane to Los Angeles

THE TERM curiosity killed the cat couldn't reign any truer to Vincent Foster as not only had his niece, her existence which he had failed to acknowledge over the years, tricked him into flying to Los Angeles with her but she had also completely lied about her so-called 'five-step plan' and refused to tell him why she wanted to see her dad, why her social worker wouldn't let her step meet LA again and most importantly why she went to him of all people.

Out of all four Foster siblings—three now that Gianna, unfortunately, passed—why did she come to her. Vincent wasn't much of a detective, but he watched enough of Criminal Minds to piece things together by himself.

He knew for a fact that Paul, his older brother, who had initially taken Isla into his care shortly after their sister had passed, was no longer allowed to see Isla for reasons that he did not know nor care to figure out. He figured it wasn't his problem and he hadn't cared either because it didn't involve him, but that didn't stop him from curious. He just assumed that Isla ran away too many times in his care and that they deemed him as an 'unfit foster parent.'

But there was always Estrella, who lived somewhere in Nevada or Michigan. Vincent didn't know where she lived if he were, to be honest. She moved around a lot and he rarely ever contacted her. Maybe once every two years. Again, he hadn't cared to ask her why she moved all the time although, he just assumed that she liked to move around a lot, just like when they were kids. Vincent never got to play with her because she'd always be travelling from forest to forest like the free spirits she was. He found it odd that she enjoyed playing in the forest but alas, he never questioned her.

Unfortunately for Vincent, the significant age gap of seventeen years between him and Paul, and the age gap of thirteen years between him and Estrella made it difficult for him to become close with them. So when Vincent was struggling to form words, Estrella was struggling on whether to wear a pink or purple dress while Paul was struggling to beat his mile run record of four minutes twenty-seven seconds.

So naturally, Vincent sat in his plane seat sulking to himself, wanting, yearning to know just everything and anything about his niece but he held his tongue, figuring that he'd end up finding out one way or another.

Isla plopped down in her seat, coming back from the restroom. "So! What anything from the cart?"

Vincent stared at her bored, a wave of regret washing over him as she stared at his niece. "Sure. Get me a sandwich or something."

"I only have enough money for two packets of peanuts."

"Why ask me for something if you already knew what you were going to buy!"

"Don't raise your voice at me...I wanted to give you an option."

"Option? This is false freedom besides I can't even have peanuts, I'm allergic."

"Allergic?" She said, mischief riddled in her voice as she twisted her body around in her seat so she could directly face her uncle. "You're allergic to nuts."

"Yes..." Vincent replied, his voice quiet, feeling slightly ashamed of his treacherous allergy. 

There was a beat of silence between the two, Vincent's eyes examining Isla's contorting face as she tried not to laugh.

"So tell me, how does it feel knowing you're one of the weakest links amongst our nation?"

"What? Isla just buy me something else it's the least you can do after dragging me to LA." He said, his voice stern.

"Okay, okay I will. No need to make me feel like a bad person." Isla reached into her pocket and pulled out her purse, her eyes locking into the photo of her and her mother staying at each other, the worlds brightest smiles planted onto their faces. She smiled, reminiscing for a moment, taking out five dollars and handing it to Vincent. "Buy yourself something pretty."

Vincent rolled his eyes at the younger's remark and lazily handed the bill to the air hostess who had conveniently made it to their row on time. Vincent quietly mumbled his order, ignoring the air hostess who had been gawking at him for the past hour. The hostess flushed slightly, avoiding eye contact with Vincent, suddenly feeling insecure in his presence. She hurriedly handed him—she more or less threw it—his sandwich, speeding down the narrow walkway shortly afterwards.

"Not getting anything?" He asked, biting into his sandwich. "Oh, this sandwich is so good."

Isla leaned over the chair to look at the shaken up hostess who had run away with the glorious food cart, not even gracing Isla with the opportunity to get something from it. "My peanuts..." She said, pouting as she slumped back into her seat. 

Vincent took another bite from his sandwich and lowered it down to Isla, waving the bread in front of her face. "Want a bite?" 

Isla shook her head at the kind gesture.

"Beats me." Vincent took a huge bite out of the sandwich, feasting on it as if he were an animal. 

Isla licked her lips as she watched him devour the sandwich, the realisation that she hadn't eaten anything since they stopped at McDonald's the night before as a pit stop meal. She looked back at the sandwich, the bubbling feeling of hunger slowly rising in her stomach.

Just as she was about to ask Vincent for a bite of his sandwich, he had taken an abnormally large bite out of it, dismissing any feelings of hope Isla had for food. 

"What?" He asked innocently as if he hadn't crushed the hopes and dreams of a little girl. "You said you weren't hungry."

"I lied! I'm so hungry and I don't want to call the hostess over." She said, letting her feelings of hunger take over 

"Why not? She's not gonna bite you." Vincents sat up slightly looked at the air hostess, catching her eye before she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing.

Vincent let out an, "ow" as Isla smacked his arm, forcing him to sit back down. "Don't look at her. She's gonna think you're checking her out."

"I mean...she is quite cute and I honestly wouldn't mind if she–"

Isla let out a shout of protest, frantically watching her hands in the air. "I don't need to hear this!"

"I was going to say 'I wouldn't mind if she thought I was checking her out.' You're thirteen you shouldn't be having dirty thoughts." Vincent said, scrunching the ball of paper in his hands.

Isla scoffed. "I'm not having dirty thoughts, I genuinely just didn't care enough to hear."

Vincent chuckled to himself as silence washed over between the two of them for the next while. Isla had jumped into the empty seat beside him and stared outside the window, watching as the clouds slowly disappeared, a bright and sunny day blessing the citizens of whatever state they had flown over. Her nose crinkling in displeasure as they slowly reappeared, thick droplets of rain accompanying the sullen clouds. She was lost in her web of thoughts.

Vincent had watched his niece, still slightly overwhelmed by everything. It felt like his sister, the only sibling who had ever paid attention to him, the one who left this world too soon, was sitting right beside him. He couldn't help but reminisce his childhood and the short time he had spent with her. She would never reach out to him fully seeming as Vincent was merely a two-year-old when she had stormed out of their colonial home so they had never really got to know each other but she had always managed to send him a letter every week, unbeknownst to their parents of course and before she left she would always rant to him about everything. He didn't remember anything she said, he was too young to understand. He just remembered that they had happened.

He wondered why she would always come back to do that. He was a literal baby what was the use in complaining about life to him. Then his mind wandered back to the girl beside him, the girl who had rudely intruded into his life and he just couldn't help but wonder...

"Hey, Isla?"

"Mmm?" Isla responded, away with the fairies.

"Why come to me?" He asked again, sincerity laced with his voice this time around.

Isla snapped out of her thoughts, looking at her uncle, her eyes scanning his face for a moment. God, does he look so much like his brother. "I don't know. Somethings just telling me to go to you. Like I should trust in you."

"Trustworthy enough for you to tell me everything."

"No." She answered honestly, "Not yet."

Vincent nodded, content with the answer he had gotten from Isla. It was silent again between the two of them, but this one was more short-lived as Vincent broke the silence by asking another needless question.

"So...should I reschedule my date or ask out the air hostess?" 

"Why not both?"


	4. Nuisance Niece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isla and Vincent face troubles when they arrive in Los Angeles

ISLA WATCHED Vincent from the back seat as he rolled the piece of paper which contained her home number of the air hostess—who he figured out the name was Julie—around his finger, his other hand tightly clutching the steering wheel, agitated that another one of his dates just so happened to be ruined by his niece.

You see, while Isla planned to go and find her fathers Vincent had planned to hang around Los Angeles with Julie until she had to catch her flight back to New York. His plans were soiled however, as not only had he failed to ask Isla where her dad was residing, Isla had also failed to google where her father lived. All she knew was that he currently resided in the state of California as he rotted away in jail.

After quick research done by Vincent, he had figured out that while did Isla's father did live in California, but he had lived five and a half hours from where they were currently standing.

An embarrassing attempt of getting a taxi driver to drive to Oakland from Los Angeles made by Isla who did successfully manage to coerce him into doing so but the tally was inching to a hundred dollars and they had barely made there way out of the city so the two had no choice but to pull out and find a car rental.

Since Isla insisted on being four hours early for their flight, worried that her social worker would find her and drag her back to her foster home, ruining the plans she had spent a month 'perfecting' to the best of her abilities. Vincent never had the chance to renew his licence at the DMV.

They were kicked out of the store, a cloud of shame hanging over them.

The suggestion to take a train or buy another plane ticket was out of the question as they were on a tight schedule and it would simply take to long for Isla to do what she wanted so she took to falling back into her juvenile ways and steal a dormant car, that seemed to have been abandoned for quite some time.

Starting the car was a pain in the ass for Vincent, especially in the sweltering heat. He couldn't help but start slowly resent the girl who had been licking an ice cream she got from the convenience store that was down along with the tools required to start up the car.

After constant twisting and turning and long-winded monologues, two hours had gone by and the car was finally up and working.

Just remembering the whole ordeal made him want to tear his fingers off and feed it to a pack of feral dogs.

It was nearing three AM and the duo was nearing the hotel in San Francisco, where Isla had used the last of her phone battery to book them the cheapest room she could afford.

There was no words between them of course, the two of them using the last of their words halfway into their trip as drowsiness had spilt her drunken spell over them, leaving the two tired and yearning for sleep.

Unlike Vincent who had been driving, Isla could go to sleep but the atmosphere the car gave off once she sat in it made her uneasy. And she certainly didn't want to lay her head down in the oddly stained seat beside her. Instead, she just took to staying awake for the rest of the journey.

When they had finally arrived at the hotel, the pair didn't hesitate to jump out of the car. The bumper falling off at the impact of the doors being slammed shut simultaneously.

They sluggishly speed-walked inside the building, barely acknowledging the receptionist who leads them into their tools in fear that they were going to pass out or overdose, given their wrecked state.

"Be awake for eleven alright?" Isla mumbled incoherently, plugging her phone in to charge.

Vincent hummed in response.

Isla sighed as her head hit the pillow. Her mind almost immediately swept away into a deep slumber filled with whimsical works of art that her brain had far suppressed for Isla's safety.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

_A young Isla, who seemed no less then three and no more than two were staring into the shattered mirror that lay against a tree in the forest in a cottage her mother had taken the pride in owning._

_She sat staring at the mirror, giggling at her fractured reflection before getting distracted by the trails of ladybugs that were travelling across the mirror. She stood up abruptly from her seating position, her legs wobbling a bit as she walked towards the mirror._

_She reached her hand out and placed it on the mirror, being careful as not to touch the broken pieces as she waited for the trail of ladybugs to travel up her hand and her arm. She frowned when they walked over around her hand as if it was merely an obstacle._

_She focused onto the ladybirds, the words 'come to me, wrap around my arms' chanting in her head over and over again. After a few chants of her mantra, the ladybirds stopped for a moment, moving in reverse to go back to Isla and move up her arm._

_The little one smiled, content with herself. But her happiness didn't last long as a wave of uneasiness settled over her. Her eyes drifting away from the ladybugs and moving to the veins that were swiftly slithering their way over to her as the tree roots shot up from the ground._

_Isla let out a shrill scream as the veins and roots wrapped around her arms, the mirror cracking some more, frightening the ladybugs that had found their way onto it._

_The last thing she saw was her mother sprinting towards, her hand outstretched trying to save her daughter from the sudden room before she was enveloped by the darkness._

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Isla woke up with a start eight hours later, sweat clinging to her forehead. Whether it was from the intense dream she just had or the unbearable temperatures remained unknown to her.

She groggily reached for her phone to see how much time she had left to sleep, annoyed that she had woken up before the alarm she set earlier that morning.

12:24 PM, the phone said. It's bold letters practically mocking her stupidity for sleeping in so late.

Isla's heart dropped. She couldn't believe that not only had she slept in but she had completely slept through the alarm she set.

Isla kicked the covers off of herself, throwing herself off of the bed. Hurriedly slipping her shoes on as she threw a pillow at Vincent in a petty attempt to wake him up.

Vincent laid still, still fast asleep in the exact position he fell asleep the night before.

Isla ran over to his side and took to poking him which slowly but surely turned to her aggressively and desperately shaking him as time was running out.

Vincent opened one eye, startled to see his late sister standing over him in an unfamiliar environment. "Am I dead?" He asked himself, not sure if his sister would answer or not.

Isla's face contorted in confusion. "Unfortunately not."

The high-pitched voice took Vincent out of his dazed trance as he realised that his sister hadn't been standing in front of him but the nuance of a niece he met a day ago.

"Get up! We only have thirty minutes left." Isla dragged the man out of bed, ignoring his protests to leave him in the comfort of the satin sheets.

Isla simply ignored them, scouring the room for their belongings and their room key, watching Vincent every know and then put on his boots.

Isla rushed to leave the room, giving Vincent the task to check out of their room as she went to start up the car.

Starting up the car wasn't as hard as she thought it would be, she half expected for the car door to be glued shut after they both had slammed it and for it to light up in flames the moment she turned the screwdriver around. The engine let out a roar, smoke gushing out of the exhaust pipe.

Vincent ran out of the hotel, thanking his past self for parking so close to the entrance. He hopped into the car and drove out of the parking lot, the car screeching as he did so.

Luckily for the both of them, Vincent's reckless and fast driving combined with the lack of traffic on a street made a 45-minute journey into a twenty-five minute one. Yes, they ran a couple of red lights along the way and did some illegal overtakes but Isla didn't fancy staying an extra week in San Francisco with little to no money left over.

Vincent threw the car into the parking lot, both of them rushing to exit the car to make the visitation cut off time. Isla burst opens the door, rummaging through her bag for the visitation passes she had printed out two weeks ago.

She was just about to throw them on the counter when the clock chimed one and the lady at the counter had begun to walk away, most likely going for her lunch break.

"Wait!" Isla yelled out, rushing over to the counter, Vincent following her.

The lady stopped and turned around to look at Isla, not even bothering to hide the displeased look on her face. "What?"

"I need to see my father." She waved the pass in the air. "I have a visitation pass."

The lady shifted all her weight onto one leg. "Sweetie you are a minute too late."

"Visitation closes at two-thirty and it's one...sweetie." Isla mocked the lady, crossing her arms across over her chest. "I'm only a minute late don't be such a goody-two-shoes by following the rules to a T."

"I'm a prison guard, it's my job to follow the rules to a T." The lady went silent for a moment, "what's your name?"

"Foster. Isla Foster." She answered.

"We don't have a Foster in our cells." The lady replied, her eyes squinting in suspicion at Isla.

Isla cleated her throat. "I took my mother's last name."

"That your brother?" The lady glanced at Vincent who stiffened up under her gaze before she averted it back to Isla.

"No my uncle." Isla shrivelled under the woman's intense gaze, her eyes flickered to asking for help Vincent for a second who just shrugged.

"Mom or dads side? Guardian?"

"He's not my guardian but he's my mom's brother, I don't know much about my dad other than—"

The prison guard cut Isla off, inching closer towards the younger. "If you don't know much about your dad then why are you here? He could be a sex offender for all you know."

"But he's not, I know why he's here. For some sort of scam...money theft or something." Isla clicked her fingers, trying to jog her memory.

"You can't visit without permission from a legal guardian or parent." She pressed, looking up at Isla. Despite her being so much shorter than Isla she couldn't help but feel intimidated.

"My mom's dead and I don't have a legal guardian." Isla pleaded quietly, trying to evoke pity from the woman. "Please! I need to see my dad it's important."

The woman was quiet for a second, dumbfounded. Isla smirked to herself, knowing that she had just struck a chord in the woman"...What's your fathers' name?"

"Scott. Scott Lang." Isla answered frantically, pleased that they were finally going somewhere with things.

"Scott Lang was let out a two weeks ago."


	5. The Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isla explains to Vincent why she wants to go to San Fran

ISLA HAD never felt more stupid in her entire life than she had felt in the last twenty-four hours. 

She spent more than a month perfecting her plan only for it to be stomped on by minor inconveniences that gave them major setbacks. She had never felt like such a failure before then she how she had felt now.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands buried in her face as she thought about what went wrong and how she didn't think of all the possibilities that would've caused problems.

Vincent had walked out of the prison, a can of coke in his hand. He had bought it in hopes he could cheer his niece up in some way shape or form.

While Vincent did feel sorry for the girl, he was also equally mad at her as he dropped everything to fly over a multitude of states to help her gather intel on her dad only for him to be completely AWOL.

Isla looked up as she felt the vibrations of Vincent coming over and stood from the ground. Vincent tossed the can to her, the can almost slipping out of Isla's sweaty hands as she caught it.

Vincent and Isla clambered in the car, a sombre mood entering with them as they prepared for a six-hour journey back to LA to catch their flight.

Vincent wiggled the gearstick, getting ready to back out of the driveway when he noticed the solemn expression that seemed to completely take over Isla's face. All feelings of anger for her vanquished within him and he was overwhelmed with pity for the girl.

He turned the ignition off and turned to face Isla. Isla looked up at him, a strange expression on her face as she was confused as to why Vincent had turned the ignition off and why he was staring at her like she was some sort of lost cause.

"You never told me why you wanted to go and see your dad after all these years." Vincent didn't know what to say to her. He thought he had messed it all up when Isla tensed up in her but when she relaxed he knew he hadn't.

Isla sighed and grabbed her bag from the bag the back seat, her hands rummaging through it until she pulled out a brown box, filled with intricate details of what seemed to be a lively forest all along its side. She pulled her necklace out from under her shirt out shortly afterwards and placed the pendant onto the keyhole, the box creaked as the key turned, the sound making Vincent's ears perk up in irritation.

"This is–"

"What's that?"

"Well if you wouldn't interrupt me, I could tell you," Isla said through gritted teeth. 

"Sorry," Vincent said, scratching the back of his neck.

She cleared her throat, looking through all the water damaged, aged papers and pictures out of the box. She took out a photo of her mother and father, the two of them standing in a flower field, smiling brightly at the camera. They both looked young, the two of them probably being no more than twenty years old. She rubbed her thumb over her mother's face. 

"This is a picture of my mother and father." She said smiling, showing Vincent the picture. "It's from 1998, it says it on the back so around three years before they had me."

Vincent briefly glanced at the picture, smiling as he immediately recognised his sister. "You look just like her y'know."

Isla looked at her mother, crinkling her nose as she inspected the photo. "I don't know, her hairs slightly darker than mine and she's more tan."

She continued to look at the photo as she spoke. "This box came in the mail around two months ago. I didn't think much of it initially, thought it was some weird decoration of some sort, but then one day, almost three weeks after I got the box I noticed that this pendant could fit right into the keyhole. So... I tried it and it worked. It was filled with papers but they were all water damaged, this was the only thing to stay in perfect condition."

She turned the photo around and traced her parent's names that were etched into the back of the photo inside a love heart, a vibrant red kiss imprinted beside it. "Scott L was all I had to work with. I had to scroll through almost seventy google pages to find any information on him y'know. Not easy work if you ask me." 

Vincent chuckled lightly, "I admire your dedication. I would've given up after the first page."

"I admire my dedication too. I was bouncing off the walls when I finally found him and figured out where he was..." She trailed off, remembering that she had wasted all her money to go to San Francisco for nothing.

Vincent noticed the shift in her mood and quickly changed the subject, feeling terrible for the girl. "So! what else is in the box."

Isla shook her hand, snapping out of her thoughts. "Oh, nothing important. Just some old water-damaged documents." She lied, loosely scanning over the page.

She was only partially lying, the documents were in fact water damaged. The ink on the pages was smudged and the paper could barely hold up on its own. A gust of wind could probably send the pages into fragments of dust if not handled carefully with how fragile they'd become with age. 

However the documents were highly important, well from the information that had Isla gathered from the almost cryptic pages over the past month or so. She read it every day as if it was religious writing, a bible into what could've been her past, present or future. While the pages had no value themselves, it held millions for Isla and that's what made it extremely important to her.

Vincent narrowed his eyes at her. He had a feeling that she was lying but he didn't want to drive the girl into a sensitive state so he just held his tongue. Instead, he just turned the key and started the car back up, the car and the occupants in it spurting for a second before it came to a full stop, heavy steam flowing out from all angles of the car. Vincent tried to start the car again but to no avail, the car failed again.

"Did you bring the tools?"  
"Nope," Isla replied just as fast as Vincent had asked the question.

The duo turned to look at each other, a tiresome look riddled on both of their faces as they both got out of the car and began their long walk to the nearest bus station in hopes of finding a way back to Los Angeles in time for their flight back home.


	6. Abhorred arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent and Isla have a heated argument and Isla meets a special someone?

THE ORIGINAL two hours did thirty-minute walk back to San Francisco became a four-hour walk as Isla kept on falling behind, not used to walking for more than thirty minutes at a time as her all her former foster parents were encouraged by her social worker to give her rides everywhere as she had a slight tendency to run away a majority of the time.

All prior pity that Vincent had for the girl was again immediately replaced by feelings of pure anger. He could put up with her complaining about how she never got to meet her father but instead, she was complaining about how tired she was, how sore her feet were, begging to take breaks every few seconds, crying about how betrayed she felt by her father and how she wished she never left home in the first place.

It bothered him how the young teenager seemed to wallow in self-pity when he was the one who should've been doing so. He just wanted to yell at her to appreciate that he dropped everything to go and accompany her to meet her father but instead, he was met with this.

She might look like his sister but by god, did she act nothing like her, Vincent thought, as the two of them finally arrived at the train station after a painful trip.

Isla took note of the four stray dogs that roamed in front of the bus station. Isla had a strong feeling that they were waiting for the owners that had left them there but she brushed it off as nothing more than a feeling and went over to pet each other dog individually, letting Vincent go ahead and into the bus stations

After struggling to leave the dogs, Isla sluggishly opened the door to the bus station and made a beeline to the booking station, confidently asking them at the booking station for two tickets.

She smiled slightly to herself, watching the man print out to tickets for them. "We finally get to go home." She mumbled to herself as she reached behind her back to take her bag off until to accidentally smack herself on the back.

Her smile immediately dropped. She continued to pat her back like a crazy woman, earning stares from those around her as they took in her raggedy appearance and her messy hair.

"No! No no no no no!" Isla repeated, pressing her hands against her ears as she bent over. "My bag! I left my bag in the car in San Quentin."

Confused, Vincent stood up from his seat and walked over to Isla after he had noticed she was having a slight mental breakdown. He smiled apologetically at the man behind the counter and guided Isla out of the bus station.

"What's wrong?" He asked, holding onto his niece's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down from her frantic state.

"The bag! The box! It's all the in the car back in San Quentin! Everything Vincent, everything!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, breaking away from Vincent's grasp as she began to pace.

"What...?" Vincent asked lowly, a wave of disbelief crashing onto him.

"I said I left everything–"

"I heard what you said!" He finally snapped. "How could you forget the one thing you need Isla! We are essentially stuck in San Francisco because you are irresponsible enough to run away from wherever you came from with a man you don't even know that well!"

Isla held herself, on the verge of tears as Vincent continued to yell at her. "But the box Vin–"

"I don't care about that stupid box Isla! Just like you, I care about myself but I least I have the empathy and compassion to care about others too. Not even two days in your presence and I'm already tired of you! Is this why you were sent from foster home to foster home?"

"How do you even know that?"

Vincent ignored her. "We have no money, no way of getting home. No car to travel anywhere and we are certainly not stealing another car. You might look like your mother but you certainly are a low criminal like your father. I can see how you're following in his footsteps."

Isla contorted her face at Vincent's comment, disgusted to see such a toxic side of him. "I am nothing like that man. Yes, I might be actively searching for him but that doesn't change the fact he left my mother for reasons I can't tell you right now!"

Vincent scoffed, laughing quietly to himself. "There we go again! The lack of explanations! Why aren't you telling me anything? Why are you keeping things from me? Is it to protect me or something?"

"As a matter of fact, it is!" She answered rashly, "You don't need to know everything about what goes in my life? I barely even trust you."

"You said you trusted me on the plane ride." Vincent pointed out brashly, desperately clinging onto any point that would drive this girl off the edge.

"I said something inside of me was telling me to trust you not that I did trust you. Selective Hearing must be common in the Foster household seeming as your brother had the same issue." 

"Don't compare it to my brother," Vincent said darkly. 

Isla hit a nerve she shouldn't have even considered looking at but that didn't stop her from continuing. "Why not? You look the exact same and from what I see you act the same. The same horrible temper and always prying places you don't need to even be in."

"That's not a fair comparison."

"Why not? It's obvious you only came here with me because you wanted to reminisce the short time you had with my mother. News flash! I am not. My. Mother." Isla said firmly, her arms crossed as she stared at Vincent.

There was a pregnant and heated pause between the two as they darkly stared at each other, nothing but pure hatred for each other running through their veins. Vincent searched her eyes for any sign of sadness but was instead met with nothing but looks of pure disgust.

"I bet your father's proud of you." He said, knowing it would strike a chord in her.

Isla shook her head at his words, hurt by what he had said. She opened her mouth to curse him out for everything he had just said when a stream of red and blue lights flashed onto them, blinding their eyes. 

The arguing duo looked over at the cop car and it was only then that Isla had realised they had obtained quite an audience who watched them argue with each other. Some even dared to record their argument on their phones with full intentions of uploading it social media.

Fucking idiots, She thought to herself, walking over to the cop car once she realised that Vincent didn't take the initiative to walk over himself.

"You're Genesis Isabella Eurynome Nepheti Jade Estrella Foster correct?" The cop asked lazily, her name rolling off his tongue as if it was every day saying for him.

Isla cringed at the use of her long-winded full name. Til this day she wondered why her mother gave her such a name as none of it had even managed to flow in any way shape or form. "It's actually Genesis Isabella Eurynome Nephele Jade Estrella Foster. But just Isla for short."

The cop cocked his eyebrows at her response, quickly writing something down his notepad before looking at Vincent who was still calming himself down from his interaction with Isla. "And you must be Vincent Amir Foster right?"

Vincent nodded. 

The cop sighed, flipping his little notepad shut and threw it over to his partner, the two of them stepping out of the car together. They both forcefully grabbed onto both Isla and Vincent, putting their hands behind their back as they handcuffed both of them

"You're under arrest for the theft of a vehicle and the kidnapping of Genesis—"

"Isla!" She interjected frantically. "It's just Isla."

The cop side-eyed her, looking at Isla as she smiled sarcastically before going back to his speech. "—Foster. You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future."

The cold metal tightly clasped around Isla's wrist, cutting off any blood circulation. that was flowing through her wrists. She hissed slightly at the pain, making eye contact with Vincent who was ghastly pale with fear.

She looked back at the stray dogs she had seen earlier who had been looking at her. A little help would be nice, She thought.

As if on cue, the four dogs split into pairs as they tackled the police officers, being careful not to harm Isla nor Vincent as they pried the police officers off of the two. The two police officers fell over in the struggle, freeing the pair from their holds

With both police officers distracted by the sudden attack from the dogs, both Isla and Vincent made a run for it, agreeing to split in opposite directions and agreeing to meet back at the hotel by noon if they hadn't got caught.

Adrenaline consumed Isla, any feelings of anger, pain and exhaustion leaving her as she sprinted sporadically throughout the streets of San Francisco. Constantly deviating with each turn she took to avoid getting caught by the police as they were hot   
on her heels.

She had spent forty minutes running from them before she had grown tired and another three or so hours hiding out in the alleyways. She had pretty much outrun them from the moment she and Vincent started running but she kept on going just in case.

She walked back to the place her and Vincent split up and began to walk in the direction Vincent ran off in, guessing where he could've possibly run off to as she wandered throughout the streets looking got him.

By the time she stopped to take a breather, it was already pitch black and most likely well past their meeting time. She walked aimlessly yet cautiously walked down the street, trying her best to focus on the vibrations coming from the ground to sight anyone who wanted to incarcerate her at the moment.

The big houses in the neighbourhood she was strolling in reminded her of the lavish life she was living in Arkansas. She wanted to go back to sleep in the luxurious bed she had left back in Arkansas along with the two precious puppies that her foster parents had but her impulsiveness had to screw everything up for her.

She stopped in the middle of the street, a short distance away from a scarily placed van that stood outside on the houses. Apart of her wanted to turn back and hand herself into the cop. She'd rather get a permanent record than kidnapped by a bunch of middle-aged men. But a bigger part of her told her to go closer to the van and so Isla, being the inquisitive person she was carefully walked over to the van.

She peered into the van, sighing in relief when she realised it had been empty. She turned around to walk back the other away as she had felt like she had seen enough for the night, but as she turned around she ran straight into someone, the person stumbling forward due to the impact. She couldn't tell who it was in the darkness but with how well his outfit blended in with the night she immediately knew she got herself tangled up with a gang of robbers.

Isla opened her mouth to scream but her wails were tarnished by the sounds of nearby sirens and the bright flashing red and blue lights that lit up the street and cocking of guns.

The bright light illuminated the man’s face, his features becoming all to clear. 

"Put your hands on the ground! You are under arrest!"

His jaw was chiselled and she could just tell his hair was still that same dishevelled mess underneath the beanie he wore. There was no doubt about, this was the man in the photos. The man that made her fly across the country.

“Dad?” She yelled, her voice overshadowing the wall of the sirens.”

The man turned around, his eyes going wide. “Gianna?”


	7. Silent Cell

ISLA NOTED that the jail cell was arguably a lot warmer than the rapid temperature outside when she was thrown inside the waiting cell. She smiled to herself when she saw Vincent muttering to himself cell as he played his thumbs with his entire face crinkled, his eyes set on the ground. Her smile was quickly replaced with a scowl as the memories from hours before came rushing back to her

Feeling a looming presence standing over him, Vincent fixed his gaze from the ground to Isla, his eyes hardening and following her as she reluctantly took a seat beside him, taking no notice of the rugged man who staggered in alongside her, a sombre expression plastered onto his face. 

A spark of utter joy and relaxation shot up her spine as she sat down, content with the immense coolness of the seat. She scooted away from Vincent and leaned her head against the wall.

No one had spoken between the three of them, the cell filled with an awkward silence that nobody wanted to break. Scott noticed the little interaction between the two of them but he chose not to dwell on it as much as his mind was plagued with other things.

Like how on earth he had a whole other child that nobody seemed to inform him on.

His thoughts were interrupted by Paxton, who came over and leaned his back against the stone wall. Isla had recognised the man as he was the one who drove the two of them to the station.

"You know, you almost had us convinced that you were going to change your ways. They were really rooting for you." Paxton said, his voice laced with disappointment.

The two men turned to at each other. "It's gonna break their hearts."

Isla watched the two interact with keen eyes. Confused as to how Paxton and Scott knew each other. They both didn't have much in common, in fact, they seemed like polar opposites. Scott being a criminal and Paxton being a cop, they were on opposite sides of the law. There was no reason for them to even know each other.

But then again Paxton did mention a 'they.' Isla thought, But 'they' could be anybody.

Isla shrugged the thought off, not wanting to let her mind dwell on the two men and instead took to counting the numbers of pi, a technique that helped her calm her down when she felt anxious or an activity she did when she was bored out of her mind. She had managed to count to the seven hundredth and forty-first number before, all in one sitting, but she hadn't managed to surpass the hundredth number without getting interrupted or forgetting.

Just when she reached the sixteenth number, a lanky man clad in striped came up to the bars and silently greeted Paxton before addressing Scott.

"You got a visitor." The detective said, wrapping his hand around the bar.

"Who?" Scott asked cynically.

"Your lawyer." The detective answered, keys jingling as he opened the cell door. 

Scott crinkled his eyebrows, getting up from his seat. "My lawyer?"

With a brief glance to Isla, Scott left the room, guided by the detective.

Isla grumbled, he dark, heavy cloud over her head got lighter as Scott trailed behind the detective, leaving the cell, however it still loomed and had no sign of leaving until Vincent did too.

The cell slipped back into silence, neither relative wanting to speak to each other. The words spoken between the both of them were still raw. Isla secretly wanted to apologise to the man but her pride made her hold her tongue. She went back to counting pi in hopes of passing at least the fiftieth number.

Vincent watched the girl from the corner of his eye, not wanting to look at her fully in case it sparked another full-blown argument. He had done some thinking when he had earlier sat in the holding cell alone two hours ago and he came to that he did not need to apologise to Isla and that he wasn't going to talk to her, let alone acknowledge her until she apologised.

Isla groaned when she seen Paxton coming back around the corner, headed straight for the cell they were in.

"C'mon kiddo, your social worker's waiting for you outside."

Isla jumped up out of her seat, moping internally as she followed Paxton out of the cell into the entrance with her head down. Waves of anxiety were piling and crashed onto her with each step she took, she felt her breaths becoming shorter, the overwhelming feeling of dread for the inevitable drowning her. She felt Paxton leave her side, most likely to run off and check up on Scott seeming as they were buddies. 

She looked down at her social workers' feet and immediately took notice to the lack of tan tights that Ms Vane wore every single day without fail. Not to mention the sudden change in footwear. Ms Vane was always on her feet so she tended to stick with flats, never heels. Heels were never an option, Isla remembered Ms Vane telling her that once.

Isla's head snapped up to look at the impostor. Isla was not surprised to see that her beloved Ms Vane was a mid-thirty-year-old woman, a disdained look waxed onto her with a dreadful bob and a fringe, but she was still shocked none the less.

"Who are you?" She asked terror-stricken, her anxiety increasing more and more as the sirens whirred about in the police station. 

The woman ignored Isla, grabbing the girl by her forearm and dragging her out of the police station. Isla thrashed around, her anxiety reaching interstellar level.

"Who are you?!" She asked again, more frantically this time.

She couldn't help but feel anxious. This wasn't her first time  
being kidnapped, she had been kidnapped shortly after her mother's death. She hadn't remembered much from it, but she definitely remembered the feeling of the chloroform being forced onto her for a few minutes.

This time, however, her kidnapper took a whole new approach, wrapping her arms around Isla's neck all while holding chloroform for her nose as she guided them down the street, steering clear from all the police officers and cars that were spilling out of the building.

Isla clawed at the woman's hands, struggling to pull the woman off of her. The world around her began to mesh into hazy lines of red and blue lights as she felt her consciousness slip away from her.

"Hope." was the last thing Isla heard before she fell into a forceful slumber.


	8. Pym Residence

ISLA's ACHING BODY wasn't the only thing confusing her when she woke up the following day in an unfamiliar room. She frantically sat upright in the bed, the room spinning as a splitting headache racked around her brain. She scanned the room, memories from earlier that morning rushing back to her.

She was kidnapped, that was obvious as the headache and aching body were effects of using chloroform. Not to mention the bruises that were slowly beginning to form around her neck, something she had only noticed from the mirror that sat directly in front of her across the room.

Assuming that she had the permission to roam freely and wanting to get a better look at herself in the mirror by, Isla groaned as she swung her legs around, moving out of the bed with caution, trying her best not to intensify the pain she was feeling.

Isla wasn't a squeamish person. She'd been accidentally placed in an all boy's home before and the things she saw in there were definitely so much worse than ants freely running around the place. However, she struggled to hold the bile, that was threatening to spill as she watched what seemed to be millions of ants scour around, going about their business like they were in a shopping mall.

She retched loudly, quickly retracting her feet from the floor and back onto the bed to it was safe. Once her attack came to a halt and when she gathered enough courage, she quickly hopped out of the bed, beelining towards the door, apologising to the ants as she was so sure she stood on quite a few.

She slowly placed her foot on the floor and much to her surprise, the ants quickly dispersed, making room for her foot. Feeling unenviably stupid, Isla scoffed, walking out of the room with ease as she made her way downstairs.

Her ears perked up as she heard hushed voices talking in a room nearby. She recognised one of the voices as the woman who kidnapped her last night, she couldn't put her finger on the more frail voice but she was sure she had heard it somewhere before.

"Job?"

The occupants in the room turned to look at the door. Scott was the only person in the room to be shocked by her presence, the other two were non-challant.

"Would you like some tea?" Hank asked Scott, looking at Isla so she knew she was included in the conversation.

"Uh, sure," Scott said, snapping out of his daze. God did she look like Gianna, He thought to himself.

"Water will do." Isla stood in her spot, not feeling comfortable enough to take a seat.

"Course." Hank turned to look at the woman, "Hope if you don't mind."

Isla's jaw dropped, shocked. When Isla asked her kidnapper who she was and she responded with, "Hope," she thought that her kidnapper meant that she was her only hope, not that her name was Hope. She felt stupid and sat down beside Hope, a form of a silent apology.

Hank poured Scott a cup of tea, readjusting himself in his seat. "I was very impressed with how you managed to get past my security system. Freezing that metal was particularly clever."

Isla looked at her father, rather impressed. Her mother had always displayed her father as a nut job who probably couldn't even tie his shoelaces with the help of four extra hands.

"Were you watching me?" Scott asked, ignoring the looks from his 'supposed' daughter,

"Scott, I've been watching you for a while," He picked up an old newspaper, one Isla had remembered seeing years ago and placed it in front of Scott, "ever since you robbed Vista Corp"

Isla leaned over the table to get a better look at the newspaper, a photo of her dad printed onto it. He hadn't changed much, he hadn't changed at all. He still looked the exact same.

"Oh, excuse me, burgled Vista Corp."

Hope smiled to herself, placing a glass of water in front of Isla. Isla mumbled a quiet "thank you," gulping the whole thing in under a second. She sheepishly grinned, having underestimated how thirsty she truly was. Hope smiled at her antics and went back to looking through her papers.

"Vista's security system is one of the most advanced in the business. It's supposed to be unbeatable but you beat it. Would you like some sugar?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

Isla watched as two ants shuffled over with a block of sugar each. She squinted her eyes, confused as to how the ants were doing this. She knew she had somewhat of an influence over animals, zoolingualism was what the zoologist told her on her fifth grade trip. She could get the ants to do what she wanted to do but if it were up to her, but based on her thoughts the ants would spiral up her dad and bite him repeatedly until he was begging for mercy not oblige to his requests so she knew it wasn't her doing this.

She at the only other person who could have being doing this as she knew it wasn't Hope as she was too busy with her papers. Hank hadn't been doing anything out of the ordinary, he just sat there. It could've been the hearing aid controlling the ants, but Isla knew that hearing deterred with age so she didn't think much of it. Hitting a dead end, Isla zoned back into the conversation.

"Right. But how do you make them do that?" Scott asked. Isla turned to look at the ants crawl up the tin, working together as one threw the cubes up and the other threw it back into the bowl.

Hank rapped on his hearing device. "I use electromagnetic waves to stimulate their olfactory nerve centre. I speak to them. I can go anywhere, hear anything, and see everything."

"Aha! I was right!"

Hope abruptly got up from her seat, picking up her briefcase. "And still know absolutely nothing. I'm late to meet Cross."

Scott bit his lip, hesitating as he raised his hand. "Uh... Dr. Pym?"

"You don't need to raise your hand, Scott." Hank responded.

"Sorry, I just have one question. Who are you? Who is she? What the hell's going on and can I go back to jail now?" Scott asked frantically.

Hank stood up from his seat, gesturing at Scott. "Come with me."

Isla got up to follow them, intrigued as to what was going on.

"Not you, you stay here." Hank said, in a voice that was no longer welcoming nor kind. "I'll deal with you later."

Isla huffed as she sat back down in her seat. "Why can't you just deal with me now!"

"Later!" Hank's voice echoed throughout the hallway.


	9. boredom

THREE HOURS. Scott and Hank spent three hours in the basement having their little discussion and Isla was bored out of her mind. She tried to press her ear again the door to listen in but you could only hear so much from thick walls and hushed whispers.

From their little talk at the breakfast table this morning, she figured that Hank had wanted Scott to 'burgle' someplace, which didn't make a lot of sense to her as Hank Pym was a renowned scientist who had millions stashed away in his bank. She assumed that he wanted Scott to use the ants to do so because why flaunt this crafty piece of technology to a stranger.

Other than that and the fact that the keyhole was the best spot to eavesdrop, Isla hadn't learned anything about their mission. She heard the word 'suit' being thrown around a lot but she didn't think much of it.

Feeling Defeated by the lack of information found, she spent the rest morning exploring the house to distract herself from the ongoings in the basement.

The house didn't have much to it yet it still managed to look clutter–lived-in. She ventured into the home-gym and spotted a tennis ball in a brown, an old friend. She smiled as she made her way over it. It had felt like ages since Isla had held a tennis ball. Her foster family in Arkansas had set her up for lessons to help Isla relieve any anger and stress she felt. Fortunately for them, their plan has worked perfectly as Isla's anger and stress had turned into determination and easily made her one of the most skilled players on the team.

They put her back into ballet lessons on top of that, but they only made her go when she was super stressed and needed to do something calming. She wasn't too great at it but her form was alright.

Isla looked at herself in the mirror, she stood up on her toes—relevé—wobbling slightly as she did so, it had been a while since she attended a class.

She huffed. "This isn't working."

Isla walked over to the box, in hopes of finding a racket so she could release out her frustrations. She rummaged through it, covering her nose as a wave of dust emitted from the box. She took a step back from it to regain her breath from the surplus of dusty air before going through it again.

It was rather obvious to Isla that there was no racket in the box as if would've been an easy find, but boredom ensued curiosity had completely taken over her and she couldn't help but look through the box.

Eventually, Her hand hit a cold glass frame and she fished it out of the box. Not wanting to have another acute asthma attack, Isla wiped the dust off the frame and her eyes instantly softened at the sight she saw.

She ignored the ants that crawled up her as she looked at the photo of young Hope, hanging by the shoulders of Hank and who Isla assumed was Hope's mother and Hank's wife.

"Wow was he sure was a sight for sore eyes," Isla whispered to herself as she looked at Hank in the photo. The ants bit Isla, disgusted and/or annoyed by her comment, Isla couldn't tell

Her fingers trailed over Hope's mother's face, she was smiling—beaming. They all were. It was such a huge contrast to how they were now, broody, frustrated and dull. 

Something only the death of a loved one could bring.

The ants bit Isla. Isla could feel the annoyance radiating from the ants because of her intrusiveness. "Ow! Okay okay, I'll put it back." Isla set the portrait down and left the room, rubbing her shoulder.

She passed time by bouncing the tennis ball against the walls and mingled with the ants, even though they didn't respond. She thought talking to them was stupid as it made her feel  
crazy but deep down she enjoyed it as talking with the ants made time move rather quickly.

She looked at the ants who were happily dancing to Uptown Funk on the radio. "Aren't you sick of that song? This is the tenth time they played it."

Isla stood up from the ground and fanning specks of dirt off of her and walked over to the radio, switching it to another station that coincidentally was playing Uptown Funk.

The ants cheered as the song played again as Isla slouched, genuinely saddened that she had to listen to the song  
for the eleventh time.

"Y'know..." Isla started, resuming her original post by the floor,  
"If you tell me what they're talking about in there, I just might grant you freedom," Isla told the ants, who were sitting around her in a circle, mindlessly staring up at her. "That's only if you want freedom."

Isla moaned, saddened as ants quickly dispersed as Hope came sashaying into the room, a paper tube under her arm. "Why'd you have do scare them away!"

Hope rolled her eyes at the girls' complaint and walked over Isla's legs. "I told them to stop talking to you, there's a chance that it could mess with our communication with them."

Isla scrambled to her feet, struggling to catch up work Hope only to internally screamed when Hope slammed the door in front of Isla's face and locked it, permitting her from entering. Isla just wanted to kick down the mahogany door that seemed to be taunting her all day. 

She pressed her ear over the warm keyhole, listening in on the conversation. The conversation was dim and quiet, just like it always had been before. 

"C'mon, c'mon..." she mumbled, "speak leader."

"He's right Hank and you know it." Isla silently celebrated, elated that she was finally going to learn something valuable information after three tedious hours.

"You've seen the footage, you know what Cross is capable of. I was against using him when we had months, now we have days. I'm wearing the suit."

"Absolutely not!"  
"I know the facility inside and out, I know how Cross thinks. I know this mission better than anybody here."

Isla yelped, backing away from the keyhole and looked at the ant on her shoulder. "Why did you bite me! After everything we've been through." She hissed, flicking the ant off her shoulder.

She felt the ant crawl away, going down her shirt and up out her sleeve as she re-adjusted her ear against the keyhole. The room fell back into silence, with no words being spoken anymore. Isla scratched her shoulder, silently cursing the ant out for making her miss out on the conversation—the ant bit her hand again for her use of her food language.

The door swung open just as Isla pressed harder against the door. She barely caught herself, quickly picking herself from the floor to

"That was a confidential conversation," Hope said, staring at Isla.

Isla quickly trailed after her. "I just want to know what's going on in there, I mean...I mean..." Isla trailed, her voice shrinking under Hope's intense stare. 

"You mean what?" Hope said, growing impatient.

"Why kidnap me if I can't be apart of anything?" Isla asked strongly. "Yes, I was at the wrong place at the wrong time and me being here doesn't mean that I deserve to be apart of your plan but why kidnap me if I can't do anything or know anything."

"I didn't want you in the plan originally, Hank did." Isla cocked her eyebrows, shocked by Hope's bluntness. "Scott was the one who begged Hank to keep you out of it." And with that, Hope stormed away and left the house, making sure to slam the door on her way out.

"Did you hear that?" Isla asked the ant that had crawled up her shoulder to rest. "What a control freak!"


	10. Anger and Advice

DINNER WAS AWKWARD, no like—painfully awkward.

Hank had ordered his usual Chinese for dinner much for Isla and Scott's dismay. The two had both wanted to get fried rice and sesame seed chicken—Isla quickly changed her request, not wanting to seem too similar to Scott—but Hank insisted on getting his usual order of wonton soup and chicken chow mien to avoid any sort of suspicion, which Isla thought was a rather extreme precaution but then again she didn't know the mission let alone the stakes of it.

To make matters worse, Hank had left the two to share the meal amongst themselves, not even grabbing a plate for himself as he claimed 'he wasn't hungry.' Isla instantly called him out on his bullshit, mad that he was going to leave her alone with Scott. He wanted the two to bond to each other, that much was obvious as the two hadn't spoken a single word to each other in the past twenty-four hours, but Isla was stubborn and wouldn't mind continuing her lifelong grudge.

The room was without a single sound. One, not even the ants could endure as they left the room to go about their business, most likely listening to Uptown Funk again instead of the ear-wrenching sound of utensils scratching the plates.

"Do you go to a private school?" Scott asked of the blue.

"Homeschooled."

"Is it fun?"

"Nope got severely punished for setting the kitchen on fire."

Scott stopped eating, giving Isla a wary look before clearing his throat. "So... uh how's your mother? Haven't heard from her in a while."

"She's dead."

"Oh. Sorry for your loss."

Scott started talking again. "She used to do the cutest things y'know. Whenever she was shocked her eyebrows would look as if they jumped off her face or when she was angry her lips would like squeeze together, her face and height didn't make her look intimidating but her way with words proved otherwise and—"

Isla shot up from her seat, her plate in hand. "I'll be in my room."

Isla stormed out of the room, stomping as she climbed up the stairs. She slammed the door and threw her plate onto the bed. Pacing around the room, She ran her fingers through her hair. 

She rummaged around the room, stuffing her thrown pieces of clothing into her bag. She needed to get out, she needed to leave. She didn't want to be there with him, couldn't be there with him. 

He wasn't there for her birth, for her first steps, her first words, her first birthday. He wasn't there for her, so why should she be there with him right now? He should've but her first but instead he put her second, making his main priority being a criminal. Maybe if he hadn't left things wouldn't be the way they were.

"Isla..." Isla heard Scott say, she paused taking a deep breath to control her anger, " look I'm sorry.."

Isla continued rummaging around the room, refusing to look at Scott. "Tell Hank I'm leaving because—"

"Isla––" 

"—I can't be around you like I physically can't be near you without wanting to hurt you—"

"Isla—"

"What!" She snapped, looking up at Scott, fuelled with anger.

"Isla..." Scott said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry for bringing up your mom, with her dying so recently and all."

Isla stared at him blankly. "She died nine years ago but I wouldn't expect you to know that." She said, her words laced with poison.

"Yeah, of course, I wouldn't know I mean I haven't spoken to her for—"

"Fifteen years. Don't you think that it's a strange coincidence that you left my mom fifteen years ago and that I'm turning fifteen in November...Does that come off as a coincidence to you Scott?" She said, the lights in the room crackling as she inched closer to Scott, a dangerous look in her eyes.

Scott backed away from her, "Isla that's not why I left."

"Bullshit! I know you left because you thought you were better off without than her, better off without the both of us. You left because you wanted to, you left because you felt like you were too young for a kid, you left because you didn't have enough love for the both of us, you left because you wanted to see us suffer right? You left because my mother was pregnant with me..." Isla paused, watching Scott as his head hung low.

"You didn't have to leave but you did!" Isla yelled, tears threatening to spill. "And when Mom left too you didn't come back for me, you let me fall into the clutches of horrible people Scott. And now that I've come to you, yo-you try to dictate my life, know more about me, lie about yourself and how dare you talk about my mother as if she was the light of your life!"

A beat of silence passed, Scott was out the door now, looking very apologetic and the lights had dimmed, drained from its light source, "I just hope you know I'll resent you forever Scott. Forever." She said through gritted teeth and slammed the door, not caring that it hit Scott square in the nose.

Isla flung herself onto the bed and aggressively wiped the tears from her eyes. She didn't feel mad she felt...livid. She wanted Scott to feel her pain, the sadness of not having someone to call her hero, the anguish of suffering from years of abuse without someone to come and save her.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Go away."

"This is my home, I can do what I want." Hank entered the room and took a seat beside Isla's limp figure. "I heard you yelling at him."

"Well the walls are quite thin." She retorted, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I was in the basement."

"Oh." Isla said, wrapping her hands around her knees as she sat upright. "I didn't realise. I guess my anger got the better of me."

"You guess?" Hank deadpanned, "the lights were going haywire."

"Things like this happen all time, it's normal for a house this old."

"Why did go looking for Scott?"

"I don't want to talk about him or even think about him."

"But you have to. Otherwise you'll be stuck in this loop of hatred. It can drive a person insane, make them do things they would never even imagine of doing to make the other miserable. You can go as far as killing them and everyone they care for and you still won't feel like too you've done enough."

"And that's why I need to talk about it?" Isla had considerably calmed down by now.

"Yes." Hank confirmed, "But not with me. With Scott."

Isla groaned loudly, throwing her head back into the pillow. "But I don't want to."

"You don't want to" Hank and Isla said at the time.

"Isla I can merely offer you advice and give you an honest opinion on the situation but that doesn't mean you'll truly understand why Scott did what did because I'm not him."

Isla nodded, earnestly listening to everything that Hank had been saying.

"But I can tell you these two things. Nothing hurts more than a child purposely distancing, shutting themselves out to a parent. A kid being so close yet so far, two of them speaking the same langauge yet a communication barrier put between the two of them hurts. Trust me, I know this from experience." 

"But I didn't put this barrier between us."

"I know you didn't Isla," Hank turned around and picked up a box, placing it down beside Isla. "This did."

"No..." Isla scrunched her nose and furrowed her eyebrows , sitting upright and placing the box onto her lap. Her eyes lit up in recognition as she opened the box, the picture of her mother and Scott staring up at her. "How?"

"Connections." Hank stared at the photo that Isla took out of the box. "He looks so in love with your mother in that photo."

"He does doesn't he..." Isla whispered, turning the photo around to look at the photo. He definitely hadn't changed much in the past seventeen or so years. "But if he was so happy why did he leave?"

"I have an idea as to why." Hank started, the bed breaking as he stood up. "But I don't want to disclose that as of now. All I know is that with how passionate he is about being there and providing for and protecting his other daughter. There's no way he wouldn't come and care for you if there hadn't been another reason, an extremely important one."

"Nothing's more important than family."

"You're wrong. The safety of family is more important than family itself or else there'd be no family in the first place." Hank closed the door before opening it again. "Talk with him tomorrow, and bring that box with you." Hank closed the door again, his footsteps growing into light gaps as he disappeared to another part of the house. 

Isla sat there, looking at the door dumbfounded at Hank's word. She looked back down at the picture of her mother and Scott. The image had already been burned into her mind with how much time she spent staring at it but looking at the raw image in her hand was ten times better than imaging it. Her hand traced over Scott's face, Hank's words from early echoing in her head.

"Wait he has another daughter?!"


End file.
